Your Human Heritage
by M. D. Jensen
Summary: Zack and Angela friendship; missing scene from Aliens in the Spaceship.


Disclaimer: not mine.

_Your Human Heritage_

It had to be Angela who found him crying, of course; it couldn't have been Dr. Saroyan or Naomi or somebody he didn't know. It was better than Agent Booth, he supposed, but still he felt his limbs go stiff and begin to tremble when he heard her voice call his name. Social conventions were far from his expertise, but he knew enough to understand that he was meant to be embarrassed, and reacted accordingly.

"Zack," she said again, softly, and the hairs on his arms stood up as she brushed against him, from a combination of fear, shame and yes, a reaction to the scent of her perfume. He kept his head down, straight ahead, willing the tears to dry from his cheeks so he wouldn't have to give himself away by rubbing at them. "Please look at me, sweetie," she coaxed, moving her hand down his back in one long stroke.

"We really don't have time for this, Angela," he told her. His voice sounded congested and unsteady and far from disappearing, his tears seemed to be multiplying. His face felt so flushed that rapid evaporation had seemed a viable possibility, but his eyes continued to supply additional tears every few seconds. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so in touch with his corporeal being, and he didn't like it.

"Zack." Before he could stop her, Angela had taken him by both shoulders and spun him physically around.

"We're working against the clock here," Zack protested. He couldn't meet her gaze, but looking down had him staring directly at her breasts, so he closed his eyes.

"Then stop arguing," Angela said quietly. "Look: I reason it out like this. You're human, I'm pretty sure, whether you like it or not, and you'll work better, and faster, if you give yourself a second to get this out of your system."

"The only thing that will make me feel better is locating Hodgins and Doctor Brennan," Zack insisted, his eyes still squeezed shut.

"There's a better chance of that happening if you can concentrate fully."

"I can concentrate fully." Zack opened his eyes to find Angela staring directly into them, her head crooked down into his line of vision.

"Can you even see?" She asked gently, and Zack immediately reached up and wiped his eyes clear.

"Yes." It had really only been in the thirty seconds or so before her arrival that he'd even noticed his own tears, though he couldn't say how long exactly he'd actually been crying.

"Okay, enough." Zack recognized Angela's no-nonsense voice then, and knew enough not to protest further. "Arguing is wasting more time." She straightened. "I am going to hug you, Zack, and in my head I'm going to count to sixty. Then I'll let go and we'll both get back to work. But for the next sixty seconds, you're going to embrace your human heritage and cry because you're scared shitless." Then her arms wound around his back and in an instant their chests were smashed together, fabric and flesh and pounding hearts. "And it's okay," she whispered. "I am too."

He wanted to tell her to let go, that every minute counted; he wanted to tell her, on a more personal level even, if she wanted to go there, that the quest for embracing his humanity was going to take a bit longer than sixty seconds. The clock was ticking though─ he could feel Angela's lips move against his neck as she counted down─ and he had to admit that it felt good to be wrapped in her arms. Felt good to have someone all to himself, especially her. Felt good to be treated as a person who had emotions and who could be upset by such things as a good friend and a mentor being kidnapped and buried alive.

Zack cried. He nuzzled his face against Angela's shoulder and felt the fabric of her blouse whisking away his tears, blotting them dry before they could fall. He sobbed─ just once, almost experimentally─ and was pleased to note that Angela's arms tightened in response. He breathed deeply then, concentrating on the trembling feeling of the air entering his lungs; he exhaled, drawing it out, the heat of his own breath coming back to him, trapped in the crevice of Angela's neck.

It occurred to him that he should put his arms around her as well, and did so, one palm fitting into the small of her back and the other tentatively pressing against her shoulder blade, where he could feel the ring of her bra strap. He gave it little thought, though, wrapped up entirely in the experience of physical comfort, of literally crying on someone's shoulder, an act which he had always assumed that people like him did not participate in. He ground his teeth together, to see what it felt like, and it felt good, felt like the correct way of physically manifesting his emotion.

Then all too soon, he felt a whisper of air on his neck as Angela said, "fifty-nine." A tiny spike of adrenaline shot through him and he squeezed her, tightly, for one last moment before letting go.

"Sixty," Angela said, stepping back, and Zack could see that she'd been crying too, and felt a strange sense of pride for having been the one to hold her. "Back to it," she said, resolutely, and wiping her eyes, she left without another word.

Zack turned back to his workstation, rubbing the last tears from his eyes with the heel of his hand and sniffing twice, deeply. Almost immediately, he had begun to chastise himself for the waste of time and energy on useless emotion. As he bent over his desk, though, he noted with some degree of surprise that she had been right; it was infinitely easier to concentrate now that his heart was beating regularly and his hands had stopped shaking so badly.

Curious. He'd never put much stock in emotion─ had a hard time believing in its usefulness, or its release─ but he did, in a way, feel better.

Zack mentally retracted his previous opinion. He was very glad that Angela had been the one to find him.


End file.
